Blame it on the dog.

I don’t remember if I’ve written about this yet, and, frankly, the last year has blurred in the rear view at this point. I teach junior high and it’s almost mid-December, so I’m lucky just to remember yesterday clearly. The Electrician and I know what we’re having. Yes. We know the sex of Alfalfa Sprout….

As you may remember, I tried to donate blood in August and was defeated by my squeamishness toward needles in combination with a variety of other factors, including summer heat. When I say defeated, I mean to the calling my mother crying while I drove myself home with vomit (mine) in my underwear level of…